Airport StoriesBack when I was a moody teenager I took a cheap flight that involved changing planes and having to go through security again. My bags were pre-checked so, when I set off the metal detector, I honestly said to the security guy that I had no idea what had set it off.
Until, that is, he searched me and found the metal knife and fork stamped "KLM" I'd nicked off the previous flight.
Tell us your best airport stories.
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chthonic, Fri 3 Mar 2006, 10:09)
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Ginger Delinquent Airplane HellMay 2001, I was boarding a 767 with the soon to be Mrs PJM (who also was soon to be ex-Mrs PJM) en route to St Lucia filled with pre-wedding jitters.
I'd taken my seat and noticed a young family boarding the plane. He was six five in his socks, she was petite and cute and they brought on board their two boys, one aged about four with bright ginger hair and the other still in nappies and mercifully not ginger.
Once the plane was in the air and flying level, the ginger kid unbuckled his seat and unleashed a reign of terror on the passengers, single handledly ensuring that no-one was allowed to sleep at any point during the ten hour flight. He'd run up and down the aisles, knocking elbows and screaming, making enough noise to drown out a Led Zep concert while his parents looked on with adoration. "Oh Oliver, he's a one!" I heard the father exclaim lovingly.
Eight hours in, I was drifting off to sleep. WWWWAAAAHHHHH-ahhhhhhhhh-WWAAAAAHHHHH! Oliver ran up and down the aisles making aeroplane noises. I turned on my lamp to call the stewardess over
"Can you put that little mutant in the overhead locker please?"
She had a word with the parents who immediately did fuck all to discipline their disgusting offspring.
A fortnight later and newly (if briefly) married, I'm lugging my suitcase through the courtyard at Hewanorra Airport waiting to check in. It's 40 degrees and I'm miserable. I've lasted a fortnight without sex as the air conditioning in my room was broke and the missus was "too hot" to perform and I know I've a huge pile of paperwork to return home to. As the queue moves forward I try and drag my suitcase but there's some resistance. I turn around to see "Oliver" busily attempting to yank the baggage ticket off my bag.
"Stop that please" I ask him politely.
He just carries on... Staring up at me the whole time. I look at the parents to intervene when his father rolls his eyes and says "Oh Oliver, he's a one!".
I ask the girl at check in to ensure that the family behind are put at the other end of the plane to me.
(, Tue 7 Mar 2006, 10:55, Reply)
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